


Better

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's better than this. That's what runs through her head as she sits on the edge of the men's room sink, her skirt hitched above her hips, underwear hanging off of her left ankle. She's better than this. She was once a Queen. Now she's in the men's room of a shitty bar with her thighs spread for the asshole who exiled her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

She's better than this. That's what runs through her head as she sits on the edge of the men's room sink, her skirt hitched above her hips, underwear hanging off of her left ankle. She's better than this. She was once a Queen. Now she's in the men's room of a shitty bar with her thighs spread for the asshole who exiled her.

This is Snowman's life.

At least she's drunk because if she wasn't drunk, there would be no excuse for how wet she is just watching Slick unbuckle his pants and shove them down to his knees. It's hard not to squirm in anticipation. He presses two fingers against her clit, giving it a couple of rough rubs. "You fucking like this?"

"Shut up Slick. This will be easier if you don't talk," It's a lie. She wants to hear him, that sneering condescending voice of his, the tone he takes with her. Snowman wants it as badly as she wants him to fuck her. She's better than all of this and let's be honest here, that's why she's getting off on it. Because this is everything she shouldn't want, all in one wonderful package.

But she wants it. She wants it badly. Just like he wants it too.

Slick takes his fingers out of her and he wraps his hand around his cock. He was hard before he got his pants down, long before she gave him that look and walked to the men's room, making it clear that this was an invitation. The door's locked now, and everybody out there knows better than to come knocking. Snowman's thighs inch further apart as he finally steps in, pressing his body up against hers.

He rubs the head of his cock against the lips of her cunt and it takes everything she has not to beg. Slick shows her all of his teeth. He knows how badly she wants this. But she knows how badly he wants it too. They aren't even fighting and they're still trying to one-up each other, drawing first want instead of first blood.

The head of his cock slowly slips in, and with a push, he slides inside of her. Snowman's hands hold onto the sink sides, barely biting back a groan as he sinks in. It's been too long since she had sex with anyone. All of her body is on high alert, hyper-sensitive to how it feels to have those ridges inside of her, rubbing ever so perfectly against the cluster of nerves in there.

"Fuck, you're gagging for it," Slick's hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them through the dress. His teeth are so sharp and white, and she watches as he leans in and pushes her breasts over the top of her dress, sliding his mouth overtop a nipple and biting. She hisses. It hurts, but just the way she likes it to hurt. It's a good hurt. His hips start to thrust into her. "Everybody saw you walk in here too, saw me follow you. Everybody knows what we're doing."

Her thighs twitch a little further apart. There was a whole bar of carapaces, Dersites and Prospitians, who watched her drink at the bar. They all watched her with awe and hatred, and not a single one of them had approached her. She wasn't a Queen anymore, but she wasn't one of them either. She would never be one of them, no matter what. Snowman wasn't a person, she was a symbol, an object, a thing to be looked at but never to be talked to or acknowledged as an equal.

What will they think of her now, knowing that she'll fuck her ex-Archagent in the dirty bathroom of a seedy bar?

Slick fucks her steadily. It's good, really really good. He knows what she likes, and what he doesn't, he figures it out easily enough. It helps that she wants this, helps that all of this just makes her hotter than hell. His greedy hands, this cold sink pressed up against the back of her ass, and all those people outside, holding their breaths and just listening in, hoping to hear something.

Snowman sets a hand on the back of Slick's neck and he stiffens up, clearly waiting for her to do something. But she doesn't do a damn thing. She just keeps that hand on the back of his neck, rubbing the plates that overlap. "Go on Slick. Give them a show."

"Is that what you fucking want?" He thrusts in hard and deep and she rests her head against the mirror. A soft low moan comes out of her throat. Slick repeats himself, his hands pinching her nipples this time. She doesn't usually make sounds, but this time she lets loose, Every moan, ever whimper, every throaty sigh she lets slip out. Slick grins that shit eating grin of his, that I've-won smile that makes her want to smash his face into a brick wall, and he fucks her with that same smug attitude. "You're so fucking wet that when I walk out of here, I'm going to carry the smell of you on my skin like it's a cologne. Eau de queen bitch."

Her thighs tighten around him, squeezing him just hard enough to grind his carapace and turn that smug grin to a grimace. "I already told you Slick. Shut up."

When she relaxes her grip, he just shoves into her deeper, his cock thrusting in like a dagger. She moans loudly, hands holding tight onto the sink and onto the back of his neck. This is a fuck-you to everything she was, a fuck-you to everything those people out there still think she is. She's just like them now, just as broken and fucked up as everyone else.

"You're never living this down," He keeps talking. It's like he knows this is what she really wants from him. Maybe he does. Jack Noir was the only one who ever really saw her, who really understood she was more than a Queen and hated her for reasons that weren't about the War. Maybe that's still there, and maybe Spades Slick is reading her like an open book right now. His breath is hot against her breasts, his mouth moving over them and spitting out words between sucks and bites. "They'll be talking about this for fucking years. Half of them are going to go home tonight and jerk off thinking about what I was doing to you in here, or what you were doing to me."

She laughs. Being a sex object isn't anything new. Though this is different, sharper, tangible. This isn't just speculation about what she might do, who she might do, what she might sound like. This is real. She's fucking Spades Slick in the men's room of a bar and moaning loud enough for each and every single one of them to hear her if they choose to listen in. Snowman squeezes the back of his neck. "You'll never live it down either."

"I've already fallen as far as I can go. There's no way but up for me," Slick's teeth flash at her, a shark's uneasy smile. "But half of those fucks were still carrying you around on a pedestal. You're still falling, and that's what they'll remember tonight; how fucking hard you fell for a quick fuck in a dirty bathroom.

"Good," The word is bitter when it spills from her lips and she means every last syllable of it. Good. She hopes this think of this. She hopes this finally destroys the way they look at her, so when their eyes fix on her, they aren't looking to her with hope. Snowman has no hope for them. Snowman has no hope for anyone, not even for herself.

Slick looks surprised, but he doesn't stop fucking her. He's very efficient like that. Even while he's confused, the rest of his body's working on getting off. That's good for her because she can feel the build in her pelvis and the last thing she wants is for him to stop now. Her hand comes off the back of his neck and slips between them, fingers pressing down hard against her clit. Snowman rubs it hard and fast, pressing down just the way she likes. Slick thrusts into her, his hands tightening on her hips, and the grin returns as quickly as it left. "So you're even impatient when it comes to fucking? What a surprise."

"I can hardly be expected to depend on you to get me off," Her voice is high when she speaks, bordering on breathless. "I know you Slick. You'd come and walk out the door and leave me here to finish myself off."

"I wouldn't walk out the door. I'd sit right here and watch you rub one out," It's his hand that leaves her hip, that reaches up and grabs the back of her neck, forcing her face close to his. "I'd want a front row seat to seeing you have to do some fucking work for once in your life."

Snowman bares her teeth as he bares his, his fingers frantically grinding down against her clit. She's almost there, her breath coming in short spurts as her body teeters on the edge of an orgasm. Slick could fuck her over right now, and she sees the temptation in his eyes. But he wants this as bad as she does, and more than that, she knows he wants to see all her walls come crashing down. Those greedy eyes on his want to see her at her most vulnerable, to know her like no other carapace ever has. He thrusts in deep, and her fingers press down, and all she sees is white as she comes with a cry.

She wants to slam the back of her head against the mirror and smash it, but Slick holds onto her head with an iron grip, eyes wide as he watches her. Snowman moans helplessly, clenching around him again and again with every violent aftershock, looking directly at him. He'll remember this and so will she remember this, the wonder on his face, the burning desire in his eyes.

Slick finally lets go of her and she sags backwards against the mirror. The sink taps dig into her back but she barely notices. Slick holds tight and fucks her incessantly. He must be getting close as well. Her body shivers and throbs, still reeling, and she knows she must be a sight, skirt hitched up and top yanked down, the man she hates more than anything in this world pressed between her thighs, sweat rolling down her carapace. Slick's fingers dig in deep and she grips the sink just as hard, memorizing this the way he memorized her.

He thinks he's winning. He's not. This is a draw at best. He saw her fall apart, and now she's watching him do the same, noting the way he winds up tighter than a cheap watch, how the grimace on his face pulls into almost a parody of himself. Slick leans forward to press his face into her breasts but she catches him, a hand around his neck keeping his face where she can watch him closely. He realizes all too late that he's in the same trap as her, and as he tries to back off, she just squeezes tight around him, and he falls apart with a broken rasping sound.

Snowman holds him tight and just watches Slick break down. The hate on his face melts away when he comes, dissolving into a pained sort of bliss. His eyes eyes shut, his mouth opens, his fingers lose their grip and he loses his rhythm utterly, hips twitching into her with each pulse. She watches him for those moments when he forgets to be angry and simply is instead. And then she watches it pour back into his face. She lets go of him and he staggers back, hitting the opposite wall. There's a look on his face, hatred but something more complex than just that. It's sullen, and bitter, and furious, a how-dare-she look on his face. How-dare-she play the same game as him. How-dare-she win.

She pulls her top up, slipping her breasts back into place. It's easy to slide off the sink, to tug her underwear up and push her skirt down, to grab her coat from the counter and slip it on, doing the buttons up one at a time. Slick stays against the wall, his pants still around his ankles. He does smell like her, and she kind of likes it. It's like she marked her territory. A shower might get the smell off his skin, but nothing will make it so this didn't happen.

"You're right Slick. There's no further down for you," She slips her feet into her shoes, gaining those extra few inches of height she doesn't need but loves to have anyway. Snowman towers over him, lighting a cigarette that she has earned. The burst of flavour in that first inhale is so fucking good after an orgasm. "No further up either. No matter how hard I fall, I'll never fall lower than you."

"Fuck you! You take that back!" He snarls, the rage invigorating him. Slick yanks his pants up, and while he's trying to buckle them up, she simply walks away from him. She doesn't pause as she steps into the bar, doesn't hesitate for a second as she makes her way through a crowd of people who are trying desperately not to stare at her. Snowman snaps her heels on the floor and she walks, not with shame, but with a fierce defiance.

Snowman is better than this. But that's exactly why she's doing it: because she is better, and that means she doesn't owe these people anything. She can drink as much as she likes, fuck who she wants, and walk away with her head held high. Maybe she was once their Queen, but she's not anymore. She doesn't owe them a damn thing. And the sooner they realize that, the better this will be.

Tomorrow she'll wake up with a hangover. Tomorrow she's going to scrub her skin until it shines to get every last trace of Slick off. But tomorrow, she's not going to regret any of this.

And tomorrow, she might just do it all over again, just to prove that she can.


End file.
